Episode3
698 Words
CHAPTER 3
~~FREYA~~
When I finally reached the outskirts of the town hall, I was breathless, sweat-soaked, and covered in smudges of dirt.
Expensive cars and luxurious pack carriages were parked in neat rows, gleaming under the outdoor lamps.
I slipped around to the back entrance, the one reserved for the cleaning staff. My initial plan to blend in and search for my true mate now seemed unreal.
I looked less like a guest and more like I’d just crawled out of the woods, which I had.
I entered through the service door into a bustling kitchen.
The instant I stepped in, I knew I was a mistake.
The head cook, a plump woman named Clara, stopped barking orders and turned her stern eyes on me.
Her expression shifted into instant disdain.
“Freya? What in the moon goddess’s name happened to you? You look like a street urchin!” she hissed, gesturing wildly at the streak of dirt across my cheek. “You’re supposed to be cleaning, not causing a scene!”
I stammered, trying to explain the Rogue, the fall, but she cut me off, shooing me towards a mop closet.
“Go! Fix yourself! And if you dare bring that filth into the main hall, I’ll send you home to your step-mother with a note about your incompetence!”
I spent five hurried minutes splashing cold water on my face and brushing the dirt from my faded clothes, the entire time listening to the muffled, cheerful sounds of the banquet just beyond the kitchen doors.
When I finished, I was cleaner but still looked utterly out of place.
I was clutching a cleaning rag when I decided to risk a quick peek into the main hall, just to search the crowd.
I pushed open the door just enough to see the room. Crystal chandeliers dripped light over tables laden with silver and floral arrangements.
The room was packed with the elite of the neighboring packs: high-ranking Alphas, Betas, and their flawlessly dressed families.
And then I saw her. Brianna, radiant in a deep emerald gown that looked custom-made, was laughing gaily on the arm of our own Alpha's son. She caught my eye near the kitchen door, and her smile evaporated, replaced by a swift, withering look of pity and disgust before she deliberately turned her back.
I quickly slipped along the wall, trying to stay close to the shadows and away from the clusters of people who seemed to instinctively recoil as I passed, their noses wrinkling at my scent.
It was during a desperate attempt to be invisible that my eyes found him.
He was positioned near the head table, holding court with a small group of high-ranking wolves.
Alpha Damien, Alpha of the Crescent Pack.
My father.
He was tall and silver-haired, though not old, his face is set in a mask of hard, cold impatience.
He wore a dark suit that made his shoulders look broader than they actually are.
My breath hitched. I hadn't seen him since I was six, but the memory of his rejection was burned into my soul.
His eyes were the same shade of grey blue.
As if he sensed the intrusion, Alpha Damien’s head suddenly snapped up, his gaze sweeping the room. He bypassed the other guests, the servants, and the glittering decorations, settling immediately on my bruised face near the service entrance.
For one suspended moment, all the noise and music seemed to drop away.
His expression didn’t just change. it hardened. The wave of disgust was unmistakable.
It washed over his features.
It was the very same look he had given me twelve years ago, the look that sealed my banishment from the crescent pack.
He took a sharp breath but his eyes said the words he was not speaking.
You are here. You are a failure. And I still blame you.
My chest constricted. In that terrifying moment, I knew one thing with horrifying clarity,
if I failed to find a mate tonight, going to the Crescent Pack wouldn't just be worse than here, it would be a living hell, personally overseen by the man who wished I had never been born.
- Writer
